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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage
+by Christopher Marlowe
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage
+
+Author: Christopher Marlowe
+
+Release Date: July 1, 2005 [EBook #16169]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Clare Boothby, Clare Elliott and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+The Tudor Facsimile Texts
+
+The Tragedy of
+Dido Queen of Carthage
+
+Written by
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH
+
+1594
+
+_Date of this the earliest known edition_.... 1594
+
+[_Bodleian_]
+
+_Reproduced in Facsimile_....  1914
+
+
+
+
+The Tudor Facsimile Texts
+
+_Under the Supervision and Editorship of_
+JOHN S. FARMER
+
+The Tragedy of
+Dido Queen of Carthage
+
+Written by
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH
+
+1594
+
+_Issued for Subscribers by the Editor of_
+
+THE TUDOR FACSIMILE TEXTS
+
+MCMXIV
+
+
+
+
+The Tragedy of
+Dido Queen of Carthage
+
+Written by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE and THOMAS NASH
+
+1594
+
+
+_This play is facsimiled from the Bodley copy. Other examples
+(says Sir Sidney Lee, but unrecorded by Greg) are at Bridgewater
+House and at Chatsworth; the Devonshire Collection of Plays has
+recently been disposed of to an American collector_.
+
+_For other and bibliographical details see D.N.B. I have
+included in this facsimile the page of manuscript in the Bodley
+example inasmuch as it contains matter of interest to the
+student._
+
+_The reproduction from the original was made by The Clarendon
+Press, Oxford_.
+
+                        _JOHN S. FARMER_.
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note: The following paragraphs have been
+transcribed from a handwritten page. Some text is illegible, and
+this has been marked with asterisks where appropriate.]
+
+The tragedy of _Dido_ is one of the scarcest plays in the English
+language. There are but two copies known to be extant; in the
+possession of D^r Wright and M^r Reed.
+
+M^r Warton speaks in his _Hist. of Eng. Poet_ (III. p. 435) of an
+Elegy being prefixed to it on the death of Marlowe; but no such
+is found in either of those copies. In answer to my inquiries on
+this subject he informed me by letter, [crossed-out text] that a
+copy of this play was in Osborne's catalogue in the year 1754,
+that he then saw it in his shop (together with several of M^r
+Oldys's books that Osborne had purchased), + that the elegy in
+question--"on Marlowe's untimely death" was inserted immediately
+after the title page; that it mentioned a play of Marlowe's
+entitled _The Duke of Guise_ and four others; but whether
+particularly by _name_, he could not recollect. Unluckily he did
+not purchase this rare piece, + it is now God knows where.
+
+Bishop Tanner likewise mentions this elegy in so particular a
+manner that he must have seen it. "Marlovius (Christopherus),
+quondam in academia Cantabrigiensi musarum alumnus; postea actor
+scenicus; deinde poeta dramaticus tragicus, paucis inferior
+Scripsit plurimas tragedias, sc. Tamerlane.-Tragedie of Dido
+Queen of Carthage. Pr. Come gentle Ganymed. Hanc perfecit +
+edidit Tho. Nash Lond. 1594. 4^to.--Petrarius in præfatione ad
+Secundam partem Herois et Leandri multa in Marlovii
+commendationem adfert; hoc etiam facit Tho. Nash in _Carmine
+Elegiaco Tragidiæ Didonis præfiso in obitum Christop. Marlovii_,
+ubi quatuor ejus tragidiarum mentionem facit, nec non et alterius
+_de duce Guisio_." _Bib. Britan._ 1740.
+
+I suspect M^r Warton had no other authority than this for saying
+that this play was left imperfect by Marlowe, and completed +
+published by Nashe; for it does not appear from the title page
+that it was not written in conjunction by him + Marlowe in the
+lifetime of the former. Perhaps Nashe's Elegy might ascertain
+this point. Tanner had, I believe, no authority but Philipses,
+for calling Marlowe an actor.
+
+There was an old Latin play on the subject of Dido, written by
+John Rightwise and played before Cardinal Wolsey + again before
+Queen Elizabeth in 1564. There is also another Latin play on this
+subject _Dido_, tragedia nova  so quatuor pri*ibus ***
+**************** Virgilii disampla Antwerp ed, 1559.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+Tragedie of Dido
+_Queene of Carthage:_
+
+Played by the Children of her
+_Maiesties Chappell._
+
+Written by Christopher Marlowe, and
+_Thomas Nash. Gent._
+
+Actors
+
+_Iupiter._        _Ascanius._
+_Ganimed._        _Dido._
+_Venus._          _Anna._
+_Cupid._          _Achates._
+_Iuno._           _Ilioneus._
+_Mercurie._       _Iarbas._
+_Hermes._         _Cloanthes._
+_Æneas._          _Sergestus._
+
+[Illustration: (Decorative) "BY PEACE PLENTY, BY WISDOME PEACE"]
+
+AT LONDON,
+
+Printed, by the Widdowe _Orwin_, for _Thomas Woodcocke_, and
+are to be solde at his shop, in Paules Church-yeard, at
+the signe of the blacke Beare. 1594.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: (Decorative)]
+
+
+
+
+The Tragedie of _Dido_ Queene
+_of Carthage._
+
+
+_Here the Curtaines draw, there is discovered_ Iupiter _dandling_
+Ganimed _upon his knee, and_ Mercury _lying asleepe_.
+
+_Iup._ Come gentle _Ganimed_ and play with me,
+I loue thee well, say _Iuno_ what she will.
+
+_Gan._ I am much better for your worthles loue,
+That will not shield me from her shrewith blowes:
+To day when as I fild into your cups,
+And held the cloath of pleasance whiles you dranke,
+She reacht me such a rap for that I spilde,
+As made the bloud run downe about mine eares.
+
+_Iup._ What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
+By _Saturnes_ soule, and this earth threatning aire,
+That shaken thrise, makes Natures buildings quake,
+I vow, if she but once frowne on thee more,
+To hang her meteor like twixt heauen and earth,
+And bind her hand and foote with golden cordes,
+As once I did for harming _Hercules_.
+
+_Gan._ Might I but see that pretie sport a foote,
+O how would I with _Helens_ brother laugh,
+And bring the Gods to wonder at the game:
+Sweet _Iupiter_, if ere I pleasde thine eye,
+Or seemed faire walde in with Egles wings,
+Grace my immortall beautie with this boone,
+And I will spend my time in thy bright armes.
+
+_Iup._ What ist sweet wagge I should deny thy youth?
+Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
+As I exhal'd with thy fire darting beames,
+Haue oft driuen backe the horses of the night.
+When as they would haue hal'd thee from my sight:
+Sit on my knee, and call for thy content,
+Controule proud Fate, and cut the thred of time,
+Why are not all the Gods at thy commaund,
+And heauen and earth the bounds of thy delight?
+_Vulcan_ shall daunce to make thee laughing sport,
+And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad,
+From _Iunos_ bird Ile pluck her spotted pride,
+To make thee fannes wherewith to coole thy face,
+And _Venus_ Swannes shall shed their siluer downe,
+To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed:
+_Hermes_ no more shall shew the world his wings,
+If that thy fancie in his feathers dwell,
+But as this one Ile teare them all from him,
+Doe thou but say their colour pleaseth me:
+Hold here my little loue these linked gems,
+My _Iuno_ ware vpon her marriage day,
+Put thou about thy necke my owne sweet heart,
+And tricke thy armes and shoulders with my theft.
+
+_Gan._ I would haue a iewell for mine eare,
+And a fine brouch to put in my hat,
+And then Ile hugge with you an hundred times.
+
+_Iup._ And shall haue _Ganimed_, if thou wilt be my loue.
+
+_Enter Venus._
+
+_Venus._ I this is it, you can sit toying there,
+And playing with that female wanton boy,
+Whiles my _Æneas_ wanders on the Seas,
+And rests a pray to euery billowes pride.
+_Iuno_, false _Iuno_ in her Chariots pompe,
+Drawne through the heauens by Steedes of _Boreas_ brood,
+Made _Hebe_ to direct her ayrie wheeles
+Into the windie countrie of the clowdes,
+Where finding _Æolus_ intrencht with stormes,
+And guarded with a thousand grislie ghosts,
+She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
+And charg'd him drowne my sonne with all his traine.
+Then gan the windes breake ope their brazen doores,
+And all _Æolia_ to be vp in armes:
+Poore _Troy_ must now be sackt vpon the Sea,
+And _Neptunes_ waues be enuious men of warre,
+_Epeus_ horse to _Ætnas_ hill transformd,
+Prepared stands to wracke their woodden walles,
+And _Æolus_ like _Agamemnon_ sounds
+The surges, his fierce souldiers to the spoyle:
+See how the night _Ulysses_-like comes forth,
+And intercepts the day as _Dolon_ erst:
+Ay me! the Starres supprisde like _Rhesus_ Steedes,
+Are drawne by darknes forth _Astræus_ tents.
+What shall I doe to saue thee my sweet boy?
+When as the waues doe threat our Chrystall world,
+And _Proteus_ raising hils of flouds on high,
+Entends ere long to sport him in the skie.
+False _Iupiter_, rewardst thou vertue so?
+What? is not pietie exempt from woe?
+Then dye _Æneas_ in thine innocence,
+Since that religion hath no recompence.
+
+_Iup._ Content thee _Cytherea_ in thy care,
+Since thy _Æneas_ wandring fate is firme,
+Whose wearie lims shall shortly make repose,
+In those faire walles I promist him of yore:
+But first in bloud must his good fortune bud,
+Before he be the Lord of _Turnus_ towne,
+Or force her smile that hetherto hath frownd:
+Three winters shall he with the Rutiles warre,
+And in the end subdue them with his sword,
+And full three Sommers likewise shall he waste,
+In mannaging those fierce barbarian mindes:
+Which once performd, poore _Troy_ so long supprest,
+From forth her ashes shall aduance her head,
+And flourish once againe that erst was dead:
+But bright _Ascanius_ beauties better worke,
+Who with the Sunne deuides one radiant shape,
+Shall build his throne amidst those starrie towers,
+That earth-borne _Atlas_ groning vnderprops:
+No bounds but heauen shall bound his Emperie,
+Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
+Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise,
+To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame.
+Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares,
+The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,
+Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_,
+Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,
+Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts.
+
+_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes,
+When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
+And _Phœbus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines
+To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?
+
+_Iup._ I will take order for that presently:
+_Hermes_ awake, and haste to _Neptunes_ realme,
+Whereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate,
+Besiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes,
+Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers,
+And fetter them in _Vulcans_ sturdie brasse,
+That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.
+_Venus_ farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:
+Come _Ganimed_, we must about this geare.
+
+_Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed._
+
+_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
+And court _Æneas_ with your calmie cheere,
+Whose beautious burden well might make you proude,
+Had not the heauens conceau'd with hel-borne clowdes,
+Vaild his resplendant glorie from your view,
+For my sake pitie him _Oceanus_,
+That erst-while issued from thy watrie loynes,
+And had my being from thy bubling froth:
+_Triton_ I know hath fild his trumpe with _Troy_,
+And therefore will take pitie on his toyle,
+And call both _Thetis_ and _Cimodoæ_,
+To succour him in this extremitie.
+
+_Enter Æneas with Ascanius, with one or two more._
+
+What? doe I see my sonne now come on shoare:
+_Venus_, how art thou compast with content,
+The while thine eyes attract their sought for ioyes:
+Great _Iupiter_, still honourd maist thou be,
+For this so friendly ayde in time of neede.
+Here in this bush disguised will I stand,
+Whiles my _Æneas_ spends himselfe in plaints,
+And heauen and earth with his vnrest acquaints.
+
+_Æn._ You sonnes of care, companions of my course,
+_Priams_ misfortune followes vs by sea,
+And _Helens_ rape doth haunt thee at the heeles.
+How many dangers haue we ouer past?
+Both barking _Scilla_, and the sounding Rocks,
+The _Cyclops_ shelues, and grim _Ceranias_ seate
+Haue you oregone, and yet remaine aliue!
+Pluck vp your hearts, since fate still rests our friend,
+And chaunging heauens may those good daies returne,
+Which _Pergama_ did vaunt in all her pride.
+
+_Acha._ Braue Prince of _Troy_, thou onely art our God,
+That by thy vertues freest vs from annoy,
+And makes our hopes suruiue to cunning ioyes:
+Doe thou but smile, and clowdie heauen will cleare,
+Whose night and day descendeth from thy browes:
+Though we be now in extreame miserie,
+And rest the map of weatherbeaten woe:
+Yet shall the aged Sunne shed forth his aire,
+To make vs liue vnto our former heate,
+And euery beast the forrest doth send forth,
+Bequeath her young ones to our scanted foode.
+
+_Asca._ Father I faint, good father giue me meate.
+
+_Æn._ Alas sweet boy, thou must be still a while,
+Till we haue fire to dresse the meate we kild:
+Gentle _Achates_, reach the Tinder boxe,
+That we may make a fire to warme vs with,
+And rost our new found victuals on this shoare.
+
+_Venus._ See what strange arts necessitie findes out,
+How neere my sweet _Æneas_ art thou driuen?
+
+_Æn._ Hold, take this candle and goe light a fire,
+You shall haue leaues and windfall bowes enow
+Neere to these woods, to rost your meate withall:
+_Ascanius_, goe and drie thy drenched lims,
+Whiles I with my _Achates_ roaue abroad,
+To know what coast the winde hath driuen vs on,
+Or whether men or beasts inhabite it.
+
+_Acha._ The ayre is pleasant, and the soyle most fit
+For Cities, and societies supports:
+Yet much I maruell that I cannot finde,
+No steps of men imprinted in the earth.
+
+_Venus._ Now is the time for me to play my part:
+Hoe yong men, saw you as you came
+Any of all my Sisters wandring here?
+Hauing a quiuer girded to her side,
+And cloathed in a spotted Leopards skin.
+
+_Æn._ I neither saw nor heard of any such:
+But what may I faire Virgin call your name?
+Whose lookes set forth no mortall forme to view,
+Nor speech bewraies ought humaine in thy birth,
+Thou art a Goddesse that delud'st our eyes,
+And shrowdes thy beautie in this borrowd shape;
+But whether thou the Sunnes bright Sister be,
+Or one of chast _Dianas_ fellow Nimphs,
+Liue happie in the height of all content,
+And lighten our extreames with this one boone,
+As to instruct us vnder what good heauen
+We breathe as now, and what this world is calde,
+On which by tempests furie we are cast,
+Tell vs, O tell vs that are ignorant,
+And this right hand shall make thy Altars crack
+With mountaine heapes of milke white Sacrifize.
+
+_Venus._ Such honour, stranger, doe I not affect:
+It is the vse for Turen maides to weare
+Their bowe and quiuer in this modest sort,
+And suite themselues in purple for the nonce,
+That they may trip more lightly ore the lawndes,
+And ouertake the tusked Bore in chase.
+But for the land whereof thou doest enquire,
+It is the punick kingdome rich and strong,
+Adioyning on _Agenors_ stately towne,
+The kingly seate of Southerne _Libia_,
+Whereas Sidonian _Dido_ rules as Queene.
+But what are you that aske of me these things?
+Whence may you come, or whither will you goe?
+
+_Æn._ Of _Troy_ am I, _Æneas_ is my name,
+Who driuen by warre from forth my natiue world,
+Put sailes to sea to seeke out _Italy_;
+And my diuine descent from sceptred _Iove_,
+With twise twelue Phrigian ships I plowed the deepe,
+And made that way my mother _Venus_ led:
+But of them all scarce seuen doe anchor safe,
+And they so wrackt and weltred by the waues,
+As euery tide tilts twixt their oken sides:
+And all of them vnburdened of their loade,
+Are ballassed with billowes watrie weight.
+But haples I, God wot, poore and vnknowne,
+Doe trace these Libian deserts all despisde,
+Exild forth _Europe_ and wide _Asia_ both,
+And haue not any couerture but heauen.
+
+_Venus._ Fortune hath fauord thee what ere thou be,
+In sending thee vnto this curteous Coast:
+A Gods name on and hast thee to the Court,
+Where _Dido_ will receiue ye with her smiles:
+And for thy ships which thou supposest lost,
+Not one of them hath perisht in the storme,
+But are ariued safe not farre from hence:
+And so I leaue thee to thy fortunes lot,
+Wishing good lucke vnto thy wandring steps.  _Exit_.
+
+_Æn._ _Achates_, tis my mother that is fled,
+I know her by the mouings of her feete:
+Stay gentle _Venus_, flye not from thy sonne,
+Too cruell, why wilt thou forsake me thus?
+Or in these shades deceiu'st mine eye so oft?
+Why talke we not together hand in hand?
+And tell our griefes in more familiar termes:
+But thou art gone and leau'st me here alone,
+To dull the ayre with my discoursiue moane. _Exit_.
+
+_Enter Illioneus, and Cloanthes._
+
+_Illio._ Follow ye Troians, follow this braue Lord,
+And plaine to him the summe of your distresse.
+
+_Iar._ Why, what are you, or wherefore doe you sewe?
+
+_Illio._ Wretches of _Troy_, enuied of the windes,
+That craue such fauour at your honors feete,
+As poore distressed miserie may pleade:
+Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire,
+That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues,
+And spare our liues whom euery spite pursues.
+We come not we to wrong your Libian Gods,
+Or steale your houshold lares from their shrines:
+Our hands are not prepar'd to lawles spoyle,
+Nor armed to offend in any kind:
+Such force is farre from our vnweaponed thoughts,
+Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke,
+Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts.
+
+_Iar._ But tell me Troians, Troians if you be,
+Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound,
+Before that _Boreas_ buckled with your sailes?
+
+_Cloan._ There is a place _Hesperia_ term'd by vs,
+An ancient Empire, famoused for armes,
+And fertile in faire _Ceres_ furrowed wealth,
+Which now we call _Italia_ of his name,
+That in such peace long time did rule the same:
+Thither made we,
+When suddenly gloomie _Orion_ rose,
+And led our ships into the shallow sands,
+Whereas the Southerne winde with brackish breath,
+Disperst them all amongst the wrackfull Rockes:
+From thence a fewe of vs escapt to land,
+The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds.
+
+_Iar._ Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares,
+Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse.
+
+_Serg._ I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships,
+And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands:
+In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare,
+And from the first earth interdict our feete.
+
+_Iar._ My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye,
+Your men and you shall banquet in our Court,
+And euery Troian be as welcome here,
+As _Iupiter_ to sillie _Vausis_ house:
+Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene,
+Who shall confirme my words with further deedes.
+
+_Serg._ Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace,
+Might we but once more see _Æneas_ face,
+Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes,
+As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech.
+
+
+
+
+Actus 2.
+
+
+_Enter Æneas, Achates, and Ascanius._
+
+_Æn._ Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles.
+
+_Acha._ Why stands my sweete _Æneas_ thus amazde?
+
+_Æn._ O my _Achates_, Theban _Niobe_,
+Who for her sonnes death wept out life and breath,
+And drie with griefe was turnd into a stone,
+Had not such passions in her head as I.
+Me thinkes that towne there should be _Troy_, yon _Idas_ hill,
+There _Zanthus_ streame, because here's _Priamus_,
+And when I know it is not, then I dye.
+
+_Ach._ And in this humor is _Achates_ to,
+I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees,
+And kisse his hand: O where is _Hecuba_,
+Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre
+Is nothing here, and what is this but stone?
+
+_Æn._ O yet this stone doth make _Æneas_ weepe,
+And would my prayers (as _Pigmalions_ did)
+Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct
+We might saile backe to _Troy_ and be reuengde
+On these hard harted Grecians; which reioyce
+That nothing now is left of _Priamus_:
+O _Priamus_ is left and this is he,
+Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes.
+
+_Acha._ What means _Æneas_?
+
+_Æn._ _Achates_ though mine eyes say this is stone,
+Yet thinkes my minde that this is _Priamus_:
+And when my grieued heart sighes and sayes no,
+Then would it leape out to giue _Priam_ life:
+O were I not at all so thou mightst be.
+_Achates_, see King _Priam_ wags his hand,
+He is aliue, _Troy_ is not ouercome.
+
+_Ach._ Thy mind _Æneas_ that would haue it so
+Deludes thy eye sight, _Priamus_ is dead.
+
+_Æn._ Ah _Troy_ is sackt, and _Priamus_ is dead,
+And why should poore _Æneas_ be aliue?
+
+_Asca._ Sweete father leaue to weepe, this is not he:
+For were it _Priam_ he would smile on me.
+
+_Acha._ _Æneas_ see here come the Citizens,
+Leaue to lament lest they laugh at our feares.
+
+_Enter Cloanthus, Sergestus, Illioneus._
+
+_Æn._ Lords of this towne, or whatsoeuer stile
+Belongs vnto your name, vouchsafe of ruth
+To tell vs who inhabits this faire towne,
+What kind of people, and who gouernes them:
+For we are strangers driuen on this shore,
+And scarcely know within what Clime we are.
+
+_Illio._ I heare _Æneas_ voyce, but see him not,
+For none of these can be our Generall.
+
+_Acha._ Like _Illioneus_ speakes this Noble man,
+But _Illioneus_ goes not in such robes.
+
+_Serg._ You are _Achates_, or I deciu'd.
+
+_Acha._ _Æneas_ see _Sergestus_ or his ghost.
+
+_Illio._ He meanes _Æneas_, let vs kisse his feete.
+
+_Cloan._ It is our Captaine, see _Ascanius_.
+
+_Serg._ Liue long _Æneas_ and _Ascanius_.
+
+_Æn._ _Achates_, speake, for I am ouerioyed.
+
+_Acha._ O _Illioneus_, art thou yet aliue?
+
+_Illio._ Blest be the time I see _Achates_ face.
+
+_Cloan._ Why turnes _Æneas_ from his trustie friends?
+
+_Æn._ _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_ and the rest,
+Your sight amazde me, O what destinies
+Haue brought my sweete companions in such plight?
+O tell me, for I long to be resolu'd.
+
+_Illio._ Louely _Æneas_, these are Carthage walles,
+And here Queene _Dido_ weares th'imperiall Crowne,
+Who for _Troyes_ sake hath entertaind vs all,
+And clad vs in these wealthie robes we weare.
+Oft hath she askt vs vnder whom we seru'd,
+And when we told her she would weepe for griefe,
+Thinking the sea had swallowed vp thy ships,
+And now she sees thee how will she reioyce?
+
+_Serg._ See where her seruitors passe through the hall
+Bearing a banket, _Dido_ is not farre.
+
+_Illio._ Looke where she comes: _Æneas_ viewd her well.
+
+_Æn._ Well may I view her, but she sees not me.
+
+_Enter Dido and her traine._
+
+_Dido._ What stranger art thou that doest eye me thus?
+
+_Æn._ Sometime I was a Troian mightie Queene:
+But _Troy_ is not, what shall I say I am?
+
+_Illio._ Renowmed _Dido_, tis our Generall: warlike _Æneas_.
+
+_Dido._ Warlike _Æneas_, and in these base robes?
+Goe fetch the garment which _Sicheus_ ware:
+Braue Prince, welcome to Carthage and to me,
+Both happie that _Æneas_ is our guest:
+Sit in this chaire and banquet with a Queene,
+_Æneas_ is _Æneas_, were he clad
+In weedes as bad as euer _Irus_ ware.
+
+_Æn._ This is no seate for one thats comfortles,
+May it please your grace to let _Æneas_ waite:
+For though my birth be great, my fortunes meane,
+Too meane to be companion to a Queene.
+
+_Dido._ Thy fortune may be greater then thy birth,
+Sit downe _Æneas_, sit in _Didos_ place,
+And if this be thy sonne as I suppose,
+Here let him sit, be merrie louely child.
+
+_Æn._ This place beseemes me not, O pardon me.
+
+_Dido._ Ile haue it so, _Æneas_ be content.
+
+_Asca._ Madame, you shall be my mother.
+
+_Dido._ And so I will sweete child: be merrie man,
+Heres to thy better fortune and good starres.
+
+_Æn._ In all humilitie I thanke your grace.
+
+_Dido._ Remember who thou art, speake like thy selfe,
+Humilitie belongs to common groomes.
+
+_Æn._ And who so miserable as _Æneas_ is?
+
+_Dido._ Lyes it in _Didos_ hands to make thee blest,
+Then be assured thou art not miserable.
+
+_Æn._ O _Priamus_, O _Troy_, oh _Hecuba_!
+
+_Dido._ May I entreate thee to discourse at large,
+And truely to how _Troy_ was ouercome:
+For many tales goe of that Cities fall,
+And scarcely doe agree vpon one poynt:
+Some say _Antenor_ did betray the towne,
+Others report twas _Sinons_ periurie:
+But all in this that _Troy_ is ouercome,
+And _Priam_ dead, yet how we heare no newes.
+
+_Æn._ A wofull tale bids _Dido_ to vnfould,
+Whose memorie like pale deaths stony mace,
+Beates forth my senses from this troubled soule,
+And makes _Æneas_ sinke at _Didos_ feete.
+
+_Dido._ What faints _Æneas_ to remember _Troy_?
+In whose defence he fought so valiantly:
+Looke vp and speake.
+
+_Æn._ Then speake _Æneas_ with _Achilles_ tongue,
+And _Dido_ and you Carthaginian Peeres
+Heare me, but yet with _Mirmidons_ harsh eares,
+Daily inur'd to broyles and Massacres,
+Lest you be mou'd too much with my sad tale.
+The Grecian souldiers tired with ten yeares warre;
+Began to crye, let vs vnto our ships,
+_Troy_ is inuincible, why stay we here?
+With whose outcryes _Atrides_ being apal'd,
+Summoned the Captaines to his princely tent,
+Who looking on the scarres we Troians gaue,
+Seeing the number of their men decreast,
+And the remainder weake and out of heart,
+Gaue vp their voyces to dislodge the Campe,
+And so in troopes all marcht to _Tenedos_:
+Where when they came, _Vlysses_ on the sand
+Assayd with honey words to turne them backe:
+And as he spoke to further his entent,
+The windes did driue huge billowes to the shoare,
+And heauen was darkned with tempestuous clowdes:
+Then he alleag'd the Gods would haue them stay,
+And prophecied _Troy_ should be ouercome:
+And therewithall he calde false _Sinon_ forth,
+A man compact of craft and periurie,
+Whose ticing tongue was made of _Hermes_ pipe,
+To force an hundred watchfull eyes to sleepe:
+And him _Epeus_ hauing made the horse,
+With sacrificing wreathes vpon his head,
+_Vlysses_ sent to our vnhappie towne:
+Who groueling in the mire of _Zanthus_ bankes,
+His hands bound at his back, and both his eyes
+Turnd vp to heauen as one resolu'd to dye,
+Our Phrigian shepherd haled within the gates,
+And brought vnto the Court of _Priamus_:
+To whom he vsed action so pitifull,
+Lookes so remorcefull, vowes so forcible,
+As therewithall the old man ouercome,
+Kist him, imbrast him, and vnloosde his bands,
+And then, O _Dido_ pardon me.
+
+_Dido._ Nay leaue not here, resolue me of the rest.
+
+_Æn._ O th'inchaunting words of that base slaue,
+Made him to thinke _Epeus_ pine-tree Horse
+A sacrifize t'appease _Mineruas_ wrath:
+The rather for that one _Laocoon_
+Breaking a speare vpon his hollow breast,
+Was with two winged Serpents stung to death.
+Whereat agast, we were commanded straight
+With reuerence to draw it into _Troy_.
+In which vnhappie worke was I employd,
+These hands did helpe to hale it to the gates,
+Through which it could not enter twas so huge.
+O had it neuer entred, _Troy_ had stood.
+But _Priamus_ impatient of delay,
+Inforst a wide breach in that rampierd wall,
+Which thousand battering Rams could neuer pierce,
+And so came in this fatall instrument:
+At whose accursed feete as ouerioyed,
+We banquetted till ouercome with wine,
+Some surfetted, and others soundly slept.
+Which _Sinon_ viewing, causde the Greekish spyes
+To hast to _Tenedos_ and tell the Campe:
+Then he vnlockt the Horse, and suddenly
+From out his entrailes, _Neoptolemus_
+Setting his speare vpon the ground, leapt forth,
+And after him a thousand Grecians more,
+In whose sterne faces shin'd the quenchles fire,
+That after burnt the pride of _Asia_.
+By this the Campe was come vnto the walles,
+And through the breach did march into the streetes,
+Where meeting with the rest, kill kill they cryed.
+Frighted with this confused noyse, I rose,
+And looking from a turret, might behold
+Yong infants swimming in their parents bloud,
+Headles carkasses piled vp in heapes,
+Virgins halfe dead dragged by their golden haire,
+And with maine force flung on a ring of pikes,
+Old men with swords thrust through their aged sides,
+Kneeling for mercie to a Greekish lad,
+Who with steele Pol-axes dasht out their braines.
+Then buckled I mine armour, drew my sword,
+And thinking to goe downe, came _Hectors_ ghost
+With ashie visage, blewish, sulphure eyes,
+His armes torne from his shoulders, and his breast
+Furrowd with wounds, and that which made me weepe,
+Thongs at his heeles, by which _Achilles_ horse
+Drew him in triumph through the Greekish Campe,
+Burst from the earth, crying, _Æneas_ flye,
+_Troy_ is a fire, the Grecians haue the towne,
+
+_Dido._ O _Hector_ who weepes not to heare thy name?
+
+_Æn._ Yet flung I forth, and desperate of my life,
+Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword
+Sent many of their sauadge ghosts to hell.
+At last came _Pirrhus_ fell and full of ire.
+His harnesse dropping bloud, and on his speare
+The mangled head of _Priams_ yongest sonne,
+And after him his band of Mirmidons,
+With balles of wilde fire in their murdering pawes,
+Which made the funerall flame that burnt faire _Troy_:
+All which hemd me about, crying, this is he.
+
+_Dido._ Ah, how could poore _Æneas_ scape their hands?
+
+_Æn._ My mother _Venus_ iealous of my health,
+Conuaid me from their crooked nets and bands:
+So I escapt the furious _Pirrhus_ wrath:
+Who then ran to the pallace of the King,
+And at _Ioues_ Altar finding _Priamus_,
+About whose withered necke hung _Hecuba_,
+Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both
+Beating their breasts and falling on the ground,
+He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once,
+And with _Megeras_ eyes stared in their face,
+Threatning a thousand deaths at euery glaunce.
+To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke:
+_Achilles_ sonne, remember what I was,
+Father of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine,
+Lord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd,
+King of this Citie, but my _Troy_ is fired,
+And now am neither father, Lord, nor King:
+Yet who so wretched but desires to liue?
+O let me liue, great _Neoptolemus_,
+Not mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares,
+This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp,
+Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands.
+
+_Dido._ O end _Æneas_, I can heare no more.
+
+_Æn._ At which the franticke Queene leapt on his face,
+And in his eyelids hanging by the nayles,
+A little while prolong'd her husbands life:
+At last the souldiers puld her by the heeles,
+And swong her howling in the emptie ayre,
+Which sent an eccho to the wounded King:
+Whereat he lifted vp his bedred lims,
+And would haue grappeld with _Achilles_ sonne,
+Forgetting both his want of strength and hands,
+Which he disdaining whiskt his sword about,
+And with the wound thereof the King fell downe:
+Then from the nauell to the throat at once,
+He ript old _Priam_: at whose latter gaspe
+_Ioues_ marble statue gan to bend the brow,
+As lothing _Pirrhus_ for this wicked act:
+Yet he vndaunted tooke his fathers flagge,
+And dipt it in the old Kings chill cold bloud,
+And then in triumph ran into the streetes,
+Through which he could not passe for slaughtred men:
+So leaning on his sword he stood stone still,
+Viewing the fire wherewith rich _Ilion_ burnt.
+By this I got my father on my backe,
+This yong boy in mine armes, and by the hand
+Led faire _Creusa_ my beloued wife,
+When thou _Achates_ with thy sword mad'st way,
+And we were round inuiron'd with the Greekes:
+O there I lost my wife: and had not we
+Fought manfully, I had not told this tale:
+Yet manhood would not serue, of force we fled,
+And as we went vnto our ships, thou knowest
+We sawe _Cassandra_ sprauling in the streetes,
+Whom _Aiax_ rauisht in _Dianas_ Fawne,
+Her cheekes swolne with sighes, her haire all rent,
+Whom I tooke vp to beare vnto our ships;
+But suddenly the Grecians followed vs,
+And I alas, was forst to let her lye.
+Then got we to our ships, and being abourd,
+_Polixena_ cryed out, _Æneas_ stay,
+The Greekes pursue me, stay and take me in.
+Moued with her voyce, I lept into the sea,
+Thinking to beare her on my backe abourd:
+For all our ships were launcht into the deepe,
+And as I swomme, she standing on the shoare,
+Was by the cruell Mirmidons surprizd,
+And after by that _Pirrhus_ sacrifizde.
+
+_Dido._ I dye with melting ruth, _Æneas_ leaue.
+
+_Anna._ O what became of aged _Hecuba_?
+
+_Iar._ How got _Æneas_ to the fleete againe?
+
+_Dido._ But how scapt _Helen_, she that causde this warre?
+
+_Æn._ _Achates_ speake, sorrow hath tired me quite.
+
+_Acha._ What happened to the Queene we cannot shewe,
+We heare they led her captiue into Greece,
+As for _Æneas_ he swomme quickly backe,
+And _Helena_ betraied _Diiphobus_
+Her Louer, after _Alexander_ dyed,
+And so was reconcil'd to _Menelaus_.
+
+_Dido._ O had that ticing strumpet nere been borne:
+Troian, thy ruthfull tale hath made me sad:
+Come let vs thinke vpon some pleasing sport,
+To rid me from these melancholly thoughts.
+
+_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter Venus at another doore, and takes Ascanius by the sleeve._
+
+_Venus._ Faire child stay thou with _Didos_ waiting maide,
+Ile giue thee Sugar-almonds, sweete Conserues,
+A siluer girdle, and a golden purse,
+And this yong Prince shall be thy playfellow.
+
+_Asca._ Are you Queene _Didos_ sonne?
+
+_Cupid._ I, and my mother gaue me this fine bow.
+
+_Asca._ Shall I haue such a quiuer and a bow?
+
+_Venus._ Such bow, such quiuer, and such golden shafts,
+Will _Dido_ giue to sweete _Ascanius_:
+For _Didos_ sake I take thee in my armes,
+And sticke these spangled feathers in thy hat,
+Eate Comfites in mine armes, and I will sing.
+Now is he fast asleepe, and in this groue
+Amongst greene brakes Ile lay _Ascanius_,
+And strewe him with sweete smelling Violets,
+Blushing Roses, purple _Hyacinthe_:
+These milke white Doues shall be his Centronels:
+Who if that any seeke to doe him hurt,
+Will quickly flye to _Citheidas_ fist.
+Now _Cupid_ turne thee to _Ascanius_ shape,
+And goe to _Dido_ who in stead of him
+Will set thee on her lap and play with thee:
+Then touch her white breast with this arrow head,
+That she may dote vpon _Æneas_ loue:
+And by that meanes repaire his broken ships,
+Victuall his Souldiers, giue him wealthie gifts,
+And he at last depart to _Italy_,
+Or els in _Carthage_ make his kingly throne.
+
+_Cupid._ I will faire mother, and so play my part,
+As euery touch shall wound Queene _Didos_ heart.
+
+_Venus._ Sleepe my sweete nephew in these cooling shades,
+Free from the murmure of these running streames,
+The crye of beasts, the ratling of the windes,
+Or whisking of these leaues, all shall be still,
+And nothing interrupt thy quiet sleepe,
+Till I returne and take thee hence againe.  _Exit._
+
+
+
+
+Actus 3. Scena I.
+
+
+_Enter Cupid solus._
+
+_Cupid._ Now _Cupid_ cause the Carthaginian Queene,
+To be inamourd of thy brothers lookes,
+Conuey this golden arrowe in thy sleeue,
+Lest she imagine thou art _Venus_ sonne:
+And when she strokes thee softly on the head,
+Then shall I touch her breast and conquer her.
+
+_Enter Iarbus, Anna, and Dido._
+
+_Iar._ How long faire _Dido_ shall I pine for thee?
+Tis not enough that thou doest graunt me loue,
+But that I may enioy what I desire:
+That loue is childish which consists in words.
+
+_Dido._ _Iarbus_, know that thou of all my wooers
+(And yet haue I had many mightier Kings)
+Hast had the greatest fauours I could giue:
+I feare me _Dido_ hath been counted light,
+In being too familiar with _Iarbus_:
+Albeit the Gods doe know no wanton thought
+Had euer residence in _Didos_ breast.
+
+_Iar._ But _Dido_ is the fauour I request.
+
+_Dido._ Feare not _Iarbus_, _Dido_ may be thine.
+
+_Anna._ Looke sister how _Æneas_ little sonne
+Playes with your garments and imbraceth you.
+
+_Cupid._ No _Dido_ will not take me in her armes,
+I shall not be her sonne, she loues me not.
+
+_Dido._ Weepe not sweet boy, thou shalt be _Didos_ sonne,
+Sit in my lap and let me heare thee sing.
+No more my child, now talke another while,
+And tell me where learnst thou this pretie song?
+
+_Cupid._ My cosin _Helen_ taught it me in _Troy_.
+
+_Dido._ How louely is _Ascanius_ when he smiles?
+
+_Cupid._ Will _Dido_ let me hang about her necke?
+
+_Dido._ I wagge, and giue thee leaue to kisse her to.
+
+_Cupid._ What will you giue me? now Ile haue this Fanne.
+
+_Dido._ Take it _Ascanius_, for thy fathers sake.
+
+_Iar._ Come _Dido_, leaue _Ascanius_, let vs walke.
+
+_Dido._ Goe thou away, _Ascanius_ shall stay.
+
+_Iar._ Vngentle Queene, is this thy loue to me?
+
+_Dido._ O stay _Iarbus_, and Ile goe with thee.
+
+_Cupid._ And if my mother goe, Ile follow her.
+
+_Dido._ Why staiest thou here? thou art no loue of mine?
+
+_Iar._ _Iarbus_ dye, seeing she abandons thee.
+
+_Dido._ No, liue _Iarbus_, what hast thou deseru'd,
+That I should say thou art no loue of mine?
+Something thou hast deseru'd, away I say,
+Depart from _Carthage_, come not in my sight.
+
+_Iar._ Am I not King of rich _Getulia_?
+
+_Dido._ _Iarbus_ pardon me, and stay a while.
+
+_Cupid._ Mother, looke here.
+
+_Dido._ What telst thou me of rich _Getulia_?
+Am not I Queene of _Libia_? then depart.
+
+_Iar._ I goe to feed the humour of my Loue,
+Yet not from _Carthage_ for a thousand worlds.
+
+_Dido._ _Iarbus_.
+
+_Iar._ Doth _Dido_ call me backe?
+
+_Dido._ No, but I charge thee neuer looke on me.
+
+_Iar._ Then pull out both mine eyes, or let me dye. _Exit Iarb._
+
+_Anna._ Wherefore doth _Dido_ bid _Iarbus_ goe?
+
+_Dido._ Because his lothsome sight offends mine eye,
+And in my thoughts is shrin'd another loue:
+O _Anna_, didst thou know how sweet loue were,
+Full soone wouldst thou abiure this single life.
+
+_Anna._ Poore soule I know too well the sower of loue,
+O that _Iarbus_ could but fancie me.
+
+_Dido._ Is not _Æneas_ faire and beautifull?
+
+_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ foule and fauourles.
+
+_Dido._ Is he not eloquent in all his speech?
+
+_Anna._ Yes, and _Iarbus_ rude and rusticall.
+
+_Dido._ Name not _Iarbus_, but sweete _Anna_ say,
+Is not _Æneas_ worthie _Didos_ loue?
+
+_Anna._ O sister, were you Empresse of the world,
+_Æneas_ well deserues to be your loue,
+So lovely is he that where ere he goes,
+The people swarme to gaze him in the face.
+
+_Dido._ But tell them none shall gaze on him but I,
+Lest their grosse eye-beames taint my louers cheekes:
+_Anna_, good sister _Anna_ goe for him,
+Lest with these sweete thoughts I melt cleane away.
+
+_Anna._ Then sister youle abiure _Iarbus_ loue?
+
+_Dido._ Yet must I heare that lothsome name againe?
+Runne for _Æneas_, or Ile flye to him. _Exit Anna._
+
+_Cupid._ You shall not hurt my father when he comes.
+
+_Dido._ No, for thy sake Ile loue thy father well.
+O dull conceipted _Dido_, that till now
+Didst neuer thinke _Æneas_ beautifull:
+But now for quittance of this ouersight,
+Ile make me bracelets of his golden haire,
+His glistering eyes shall be my looking glasse,
+His lips an altar, where Ile offer vp
+As many kisses as the Sea hath sands,
+In stead of musicke I will heare him speake,
+His lookes shall be my only Librarie,
+And thou _Æneas, Didos_ treasurie,
+In whose faire bosome I will locke more wealth,
+Then twentie thousand Indiaes can affoord:
+O here he comes, loue, loue, giue _Dido_ leaue
+To be more modest then her thoughts admit,
+Lest I be made a wonder to the world.
+_Achates_, how doth _Carthage_ please your Lord?
+
+_Acha._ That will _Æneas_ shewe your maiestie.
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas_ art thou there?
+
+_Æn._ I vnderstand your highnesse sent for me.
+
+_Dido._ No, but now thou art here, tell me in sooth,
+In what might _Dido_ highly pleasure thee.
+
+_Æn._ So much haue I receiu'd at _Didos_ hands,
+As without blushing I can aske no more:
+Yet Queene of _Affricke_, are my ships vnrigd,
+My Sailes all rent in sunder with the winde,
+My Oares broken, and my Tackling lost,
+Yea all my Nauie split with Rockes and Shelfes:
+Nor Sterne nor Anchor haue our maimed Fleete,
+Our Masts the furious windes strooke ouer bourd:
+Which piteous wants if _Dido_ will supplie,
+We will account her author of our liues.
+
+_Dido._  _Æneas_, Ile repaire thy Troian ships,
+Conditionally that thou wilt stay with me,
+And let _Achates_ saile to _Italy_:
+Ile giue thee tackling made of riueld gold,
+Wound on the barkes of odoriferous trees,
+Oares of massie Iuorie full of holes,
+Through which the water shall delight to play:
+Thy Anchors shall be hewed from Christall Rockes,
+Which if thou lose shall shine aboue the waues;
+The Masts whereon thy swelling sailes shall hang,
+Hollow Pyramides of siluer plate:
+The sailes of foulded Lawne, where shall be wrought
+The warres of _Troy_, but not _Troyes_ ouerthrow:
+For ballace, emptie _Didos_ treasurie,
+Take what ye will, but leaue _Æneas_ here.
+_Achates_, thou shalt be so meanly clad,
+As Seaborne Nymphes shall swarme about thy ships,
+And wanton Mermaides court thee with sweete songs,
+Flinging in fauours of more soueraigne worth,
+Then _Thetis_ hangs about _Apolloes_ necke,
+So that _Æneas_ may but stay with me.
+
+_Æn._ Wherefore would _Dido_ haue _Æneas_ stay?
+
+_Dido._ To warre against my bordering enemies:
+_Æneas_, thinke not _Dido_ is in loue:
+For if that any man could conquer me,
+I had been wedded ere _Æneas_ came:
+See where the pictures of my suiters hang,
+And are not these as faire as faire may be?
+
+_Acha._ I saw this man at _Troy_ ere _Troy_ was sackt.
+
+_Æn._ I this in _Greece_ when _Paris_ stole faire _Helen_.
+
+_Illio._ This man and I were at _Olympus_ games.
+
+_Serg._ I know this face, he is a Persian borne,
+I traueld with him to _Ætolia_.
+
+_Cloan._ And I in _Athens_ with this gentleman,
+Vnlesse I be deceiu'd disputed once.
+
+_Dido._ But speake _Æneas_, know you none of these?
+
+_Æn._ No Madame, but it seemes that these are Kings.
+
+_Dido._ All these and others which I neuer sawe,
+Haue been most vrgent suiters for my loue,
+Some came in person, others sent their Legats:
+Yet none obtaind me, I am free from all,
+And yet God knowes intangled vnto one.
+This was an Orator, and thought by words
+To compasse me, but yet he was deceiu'd:
+And this a Spartan Courtier vaine and wilde,
+But his fantastick humours pleasde not me:
+This was _Alcion_, a Musition,
+But playd he nere so sweet, I let him goe:
+This was the wealthie King of _Thessaly_,
+But I had gold enough and cast him off:
+This _Meleagers_ sonne, a warlike Prince,
+But weapons gree not with my tender yeares:
+The rest are such as all the world well knowes,
+Yet how I sweare by heauen and him I loue,
+I was as farre from loue, as they from hate.
+
+_Æn._ O happie shall he be whom _Dido_ loues.
+
+_Dido._ Then neuer say that thou art miserable,
+Because it may be thou shalt be my loue:
+Yet boast not of it, for I loue thee not,
+And yet I hate thee not: O if I speake
+I shall betray my selfe: _Æneas_ speake,
+We two will goe a hunting in the woods,
+But not so much for thee, thou art but one,
+As for _Achates_, and his followers.   _Exeunt._
+
+_Enter Iuno to Ascanius asleepe._
+
+_Iuno._ Here lyes my hate, _Æneas_ cursed brat,
+The boy wherein false destinie delights,
+The heire of furie, the fauorite of the face,
+That vgly impe that shall outweare my wrath,
+And wrong my deitie with high disgrace:
+But I will take another order now,
+And race th'eternall Register of time:
+_Troy_ shall no more call him her second hope,
+Nor _Venus_ triumph in his tender youth:
+For here in spight of heauen Ile murder him,
+And feede infection with his left out life:
+Say _Paris_, now shall _Venus_ haue the ball?
+Say vengeance, now shall her _Ascanius_ dye.
+O no God wot, I cannot watch my time,
+Nor quit good turnes with double fee downe told:
+Tut, I am simple without made to hurt,
+And haue no gall at all to grieue my foes:
+But lustfull _Ioue_ and his adulterous child,
+Shall finde it written on confusions front,
+That onely _Iuno_ rules in _Rhamnuse_ towne.
+
+_Enter Venus._
+
+_Venus._ What should this meane? my Doues are back returnd,
+Who warne me of such daunger prest at hand,
+To harme my sweete _Ascanius_ louely life.
+_Iuno_, my mortall foe, what make you here?
+Auaunt old witch and trouble not my wits.
+
+_Iuno._ Fie _Venus_, that such causeles words of wrath,
+Should ere defile so faire a mouth as thine:
+Are not we both sprong of celestiall rase,
+And banquet as two Sisters with the Gods?
+Why is it then displeasure should disioyne,
+Whom kindred and acquaintance counites.
+
+_Venus._ Out hatefull hag, thou wouldst haue slaine my sonne,
+Had not my Doues discou'rd thy entent:
+But I will teare thy eyes fro forth thy head,
+And feast the birds with their bloud-shotten balles,
+If thou but lay thy fingers on my boy.
+
+_Iuno._ Is this then all the thankes that I shall haue,
+For sauing him from Snakes and Serpents stings,
+That would haue kild him sleeping as he lay?
+What though I was offended with thy sonne,
+And wrought him mickle woe on sea and land,
+When for the hate of Troian _Ganimed_,
+That was aduanced by my _Hebes_ shame,
+And _Paris_ iudgement of the heauenly ball,
+I mustred all the windes vnto his wracke,
+And vrg'd each Element to his annoy:
+Yet now I doe repent me of his ruth,
+And wish that I had neuer wrongd him so:
+Bootles I sawe it was to warre with fate,
+That hath so many vnresisted friends:
+Wherefore I chaunge my counsell with the time,
+And planted loue where enuie erst had sprong.
+
+_Venus._ Sister of _Ioue_, if that thy loue be such,
+As these thy protestations doe paint forth,
+We two as friends one fortune will deuide:
+_Cupid_ shall lay his arrowes in thy lap,
+And to a Scepter chaunge his golden shafts,
+Fancie and modestie shall liue as mates,
+And thy faire peacockes by my pigeons pearch:
+Loue my _Æneas_, and desire is thine,
+The day, the night, my Swannes, my sweetes are thine.
+
+_Iuno._ More then melodious are these words to me,
+That ouercioy my soule with their content:
+_Venus_, sweete _Venus_, how may I deserue
+Such amourous fauours at thy beautious hand?
+But that thou maist more easilie perceiue,
+How highly I doe prize this amitie,
+Harke to a motion of eternall league,
+Which I will make in quittance of thy loue:
+Thy sonne thou knowest with _Dido_ now remaines,
+And feedes his eyes with fauours of her Court,
+She likewise in admyring spends her time,
+And cannot talke nor thinke of ought but him:
+Why should not they then ioyne in marriage,
+And bring forth mightie Kings to Carthage towne,
+Whom casualtie of sea hath made such friends?
+And _Venus_, let there be a match confirmd
+Betwixt these two, whose loues are so alike,
+And both our Deities conioynd in one,
+Shall chaine felicitie vnto their throne.
+
+_Venus._ Well could I like this reconcilements meanes,
+But much I feare my sonne will nere consent,
+Whose armed soule alreadie on the sea,
+Darts forth her light to _Lauinias_ shoare.
+
+_Iuno._ Faire Queene of loue, I will deuorce these doubts,
+And finde the way to wearie such fond thoughts:
+This day they both a hunting forth will ride
+Into these woods, adioyning to these walles,
+When in the midst of all their gamesome sports,
+Ile make the Clowdes dissolue their watrie workes,
+And drench _Siluanus_ dwellings with their shewers,
+Then in one Caue the Queene and he shall meete,
+And interchangeably discourse their thoughts,
+Whose short conclusion will seale vp their hearts,
+Vnto the purpose which we now propound.
+
+_Venus._ Sister, I see you sauour of my wiles,
+Be it as you will haue for this once,
+Meane time, _Ascanius_ shall be my charge,
+Whom I will beare to _Ida_ in mine armes,
+And couch him in _Adonis_ purple downe, _Exeunt._
+
+_Enter Dido, Æneas, Anna, Iarbus, Achates, and followers._
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas_, thinke not but I honor thee,
+That thus in person goe with thee to hunt:
+My princely robes thou seest are layd aside,
+Whose glittering pompe _Dianas_ shrowdes supplies,
+All fellowes now disposde alike to sporte,
+The woods are wide, and we haue store of game:
+Faire Troian, hold my golden bowe awhile,
+Vntill I gird my quiuer to my side:
+Lords goe before, we two must talke alone.
+
+_Iar._ Vngentle, can she wrong _Iarbus_ so?
+Ile dye before a stranger haue that grace:
+We two will talke alone, what words be these?
+
+_Dido._ What makes _Iarbus_ here of all the rest?
+We could haue gone without your companie.
+
+_Æn._ But loue and duetie led him on perhaps,
+To presse beyond acceptance to your sight.
+
+_Iar._ Why man of _Troy_, doe I offend thine eyes?
+Or art thou grieude thy betters presse so nye?
+
+_Dido._ How now Getulian, are ye growne so braue,
+To challenge vs with your comparisons?
+Pesant, goe seeke companions like thy selfe,
+And meddle not with any that I loue:
+_Æneas_, be not moude at what he sayes,
+For otherwhile he will be out of ioynt.
+
+_Iar._ Women may wrong by priuiledge of loue:
+But should that man of men (_Dido_ except)
+Haue taunted me in these opprobrious termes,
+I would haue either drunke his dying bloud,
+Or els I would haue giuen my life in gage?
+
+_Dido._ Huntsmen, why pitch you not your toyles apace,
+And rowse the light foote Deere from forth their laire.
+
+_Anna._ Sister, see see _Ascanius_ in his pompe,
+Bearing his huntspeare brauely in his hand.
+
+_Dido._ Yea little sonne, are you so forward now?
+
+_Asca._ I mother, I shall one day be a man,
+And better able vnto other armes,
+Meane time these wanton weapons serue my warre,
+Which I will breake betwixt a Lyons iawes.
+
+_Dido._ What, darest thou looke a Lyon in the face?
+
+_Asca._ I, and outface him to, doe what he can.
+
+_Anna._ How like his father speaketh he in all?
+
+_Æn._ And mought I liue to see him sacke rich _Thebes_,
+And loade his speare with Grecian Princes heads,
+Then would I wish me with _Anchises_ Tombe,
+And dead to honour that hath brought me vp.
+
+_Iar._ And might I liue to see thee shipt away,
+And hoyst aloft on _Neptunes_ hideous hilles,
+Then would I wish me in faire _Didos_ armes,
+And dead to scorne that hath pursued me so.
+
+_Æn._ Stoute friend _Achates_, doest thou know this wood?
+
+_Acha._ As I remember, here you shot the Deere,
+That sau'd your famisht souldiers liues from death,
+When first you set your foote vpon the shoare,
+And here we met fair _Venus_ virgine like,
+Bearing her bowe and quiuer at her backe.
+
+_Æn._ O how these irksome labours now delight,
+And ouerioy my thoughts with their escape:
+Who would not vndergoe all kind of toyle,
+To be well stor'd with such a winters tale?
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas_, leaue these dumpes and lets away,
+Some to the mountaines, some vnto the soyle,
+You to the vallies, thou vnto the house.
+
+_Exeunt omnes: manent._
+
+_Iar._ I, this it is which wounds me to the death,
+To see a Phrigian far fet to the sea,
+Preferd before a man of maiestie:
+O loue, O hate, O cruell womens hearts,
+That imitate the Moone in euery chaunge,
+And like the Planets euer loue to raunge:
+What shall I doe thus wronged with disdaine?
+Reuenge me on _Æneas_, or on her:
+On her? fond man, that were to warre gainst heauen,
+And with one shaft prouoke ten thousand darts:
+This Troians end will be thy enuies aime,
+Whose bloud will reconcile thee to content,
+And make loue drunken with thy sweete desire:
+But _Dido_ that now holdeth him so deare,
+Will dye with very tidings of his death:
+But time will discontinue her content,
+And mould her minde vnto newe fancies shapes:
+O God of heauen, turne the hand of fate
+Vnto that happie day of my delight,
+And then, what then? _Iarbus_ shall but loue:
+So doth he now, though not with equall gaine,
+That resteth in the riuall of thy paine,
+Who nere will cease to soare till he be slaine. _Exit._
+
+_The storme. Enter Æneas and Dido in the Caue at seuerall times._
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas._
+
+_Æn._ _Dido._
+
+_Dido._ Tell me deare loue, how found you out this Caue?
+
+_Æn._ By chance sweete Queene, as _Mars_ and _Venus_ met.
+
+_Dido._ Why, that was in a net, where we are loose,
+And yet I am not free, oh would I were.
+
+_Æn._ Why, what is it that _Dido_ may desire
+And not obtaine, be it in humaine power?
+
+_Dido._ The thing that I will dye before I aske,
+And yet desire to haue before I dye.
+
+_Æn._ It is not ought _Æneas_ may achieue?
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas_ no, although his eyes doe pearce.
+
+_Æn._ What, hath _Iarbus_ angred her in ought?
+And will she be auenged on his life?
+
+_Dido._ Not angred me, except in angring thee.
+
+_Æn._ Who then of all so cruell may he be,
+That should detaine thy eye in his defects?
+
+_Dido._ The man that I doe eye where ere I am,
+Whose amorous face like _Pean_ sparkles fire,
+When as he buts his beames on _Floras_ bed,
+_Prometheus_ hath put on _Cupids_ shape,
+And I must perish in his burning armes:
+_Æneas_, O _Æneas_, quench these flames.
+
+_Æn._ What ailes my Queene, is she falne sicke of late?
+
+_Dido._ Not sicke my loue, but sicke, I must conceale
+The torment, that it bootes me not reueale;
+And yet Ile speake, and yet Ile hold my peace,
+Doe shame her worst, I will disclose my griefe:
+_Æneas_, thou art he, what did I say?
+Something it was that now I haue forgot.
+
+_Æn._ What meanes faire _Dido_ by this doubtfull speech?
+
+_Dido._ Nay, nothing, but _Æneas_ loues me not.
+
+_Æn._ _Æneas_ thoughts dare not ascend so high
+As _Didos_ heart, which Monarkes might not scale.
+
+_Dido._ It was because I sawe no King like thee,
+Whose golden Crowne might ballance my content:
+But now that I haue found what to effect,
+I followe one that loueth fame for me,
+And rather had seeme faire _Sirens_ eyes,
+Then to the Carthage Queene that dyes for him.
+
+_Æn._ If that your maiestie can looke so lowe,
+As my despised worths, that shun all praise,
+With this my hand I giue to you my heart,
+And vow by all the Gods of Hospitalitie,
+By heauen and earth, and my faire brothers bowe,
+By _Paphos_, _Capys_, and the purple Sea,
+From whence my radiant mother did descend,
+And by this Sword that saued me from the Greekes,
+Neuer to leaue these newe vpreared walles,
+Whiles _Dido_ liues and rules in _Iunos_ towne,
+Neuer to like or loue any but her.
+
+_Dido._ What more then delian musicke doe I heare,
+That calles my soule from forth his liuing seate,
+To moue vnto the measures of delight:
+Kind clowdes that sent forth such a curteous storme,
+As made disdaine to flye to fancies lap:
+Stoute loue in mine armes make thy _Italy_,
+Whose Crowne and kingdome rests at thy commande.
+_Sicheus_, not _Æneas_ be thou calde:
+The King of _Carthage_, not _Anchises_ sonne:
+Hold, take these Iewels at thy Louers hand,
+These golden bracelets, and this wedding ring,
+Wherewith my husband woo'd me yet a maide,
+And be thou king of _Libia_, by my guift.
+
+_Exeunt to the Caue._
+
+
+
+
+Actus 4. Scena 1.
+
+
+_Enter Achates, Ascanius, Iarbus, and Anna._
+
+_Acha._ Did euer men see such a sudden storme?
+Or day so cleere so suddenly orecast?
+
+_Iar._ I thinke some fell Inchantresse dwelleth here,
+That can call them forth when as she please,
+And diue into blacke tempests treasurie,
+When as she mcanes to maske the world with clowdes.
+
+_Anna._ In all my life I neuer knew the like,
+It haild, it snowde, it lightned all at once.
+
+_Acha._ I thinke it was the diuels reuelling night,
+There was such hurly burly in the heauens:
+Doubtles _Apollos_ Axeltree is crackt,
+Or aged _Atlas_ shoulder out of ioynt,
+The motion was soouer violent.
+
+_Iar._ In all this coyle, where haue ye left the Queene?
+
+_Asca._ Nay, where is my warlike father, can you tell?
+
+_Anna._ Behold where both of them come forth the Caue.
+
+_Iar._ Come forth the Caue: can heauen endure this sight?
+_Iarbus_, curse that vnreuenging _Ioue_,
+Whose flintie darts slept in _Tiphous_ den,
+Whiles these adulterers surfetted with sinne:
+Nature, why mad'st me not some poysonous beast,
+That with the sharpnes of my edged sting,
+I might haue stakte them both vnto the earth,
+Whil'st they were sporting in this darksome Caue?
+
+_Æn._ The ayre is cleere, and Southerne windes are whist,
+Come _Dido_, let vs hasten to the towne,
+Since gloomie _Æolus_ doth cease to frowne.
+
+_Dido._ _Achates_ and _Ascanius_, well met.
+
+_Æn._ Faire _Anna_, how escapt you from the shower?
+
+_Anna._ As others did, by running to the wood.
+
+_Dido._ But where were you _Iarbus_ all this while?
+
+_Iar._ Not with _Æneas_ in the vgly Caue.
+
+_Dido._ I see _Æneas_ sticketh in your minde,
+But I will soone put by that stumbling blocke,
+And quell those hopes that thus employ your cares. _Exeunt._
+
+_Enters Iarbus to Sacrifice._
+
+_Iar._ Come seruants, come bring forth the Sacrifize,
+That I may pacifie that gloomie _Ioue_,
+Whose emptie Altars haue enlarg'd our illes.
+Eternall _Ioue_, great master of the Clowdes,
+Father of gladnesse, and all frollicke thoughts,
+That with thy gloomie hand corrects the heauen,
+When ayrie creatures warre amongst themselues:
+Heare, heare, O heare _Iarbus_ plaining prayers,
+Whose hideous ecchoes make the welkin howle,
+And all the woods _Eliza_ to resound:
+The woman that thou wild vs entertaine,
+Where straying in our borders vp and downe,
+She crau'd a hide of ground to build a towne,
+With whom we did deuide both lawes and land,
+And all the fruites that plentie els sends forth,
+Scorning our loues and royall marriage rites,
+Yeelds vp her beautie to a strangers bed,
+Who hauing wrought her shame, is straight way fled:
+Now if thou beest a pitying God of power,
+On whom ruth and compassion euer waites,
+Redresse these wrongs, and warne him to his ships,
+That now afflicts me with his flattering eyes.
+
+_Enter Anna._
+
+_Anna._ How now _Iarbus_, at your prayers so hard?
+
+_Iar._ I _Anna_, is there ought you would with me?
+
+_Anna._ Nay, no such waightie busines of import,
+But may be slackt vntill another time:
+Yet if you would partake with me the cause
+Of this deuotion that detaineth you,
+I would be thankfull for such curtesie.
+
+_Iar._ _Anna_, against this Troian doe I pray,
+Who seekes to rob me of thy Sisters loue,
+And dive into her heart by coloured lookes.
+
+_Anna._ Alas poore King that labours so in vaine.
+For her that so delighteth in thy paine:
+Be rul'd by me, and seeke some other loue,
+Whose yeelding heart may yeeld thee more reliefe.
+
+_Iar._ Mine eye is fixt where fancie cannot start,
+O leaue me, leaue me to my silent thoughts,
+That register the numbers of my ruth,
+And I will either moue the thoughtles flint,
+Or drop out both mine eyes in drisling teares,
+Before my sorrowes tide haue any stint.
+
+_Anna._ I will not leaue _Iarbus_ whom I loue,
+In this delight of dying pensiuenes:
+Away with _Dido_, _Anna_ be thy song,
+_Anna_ that doth admire thee more then heauen.
+
+_Iar._ I may nor will list to such loathsome chaunge,
+That intercepts the course of my desire:
+Seruants, come fetch these emptie vessels here,
+For I will flye from these alluring eyes,
+That doe pursue my peace where ere it goes. _Exit._
+
+_Anna._ _Iarbus_ stay, louing _Iarbus_ stay,
+For I haue honey to present thee with:
+Hard hearted, wilt not deigne to heare me speake,
+Ile follow thee with outcryes nere the lesse,
+And strewe thy walkes with my discheueld haire. _Exit._
+
+_Enter Æneas alone._
+
+_Æn._ _Carthage_, my friendly host adue,
+Since destinie doth call me from the shoare:
+_Hermes_ this night descending in a dreame,
+Hath summond me to fruitfull _Italy_:
+_Ioue_ wils it so, my mother wils it so:
+Let my Phenissa graunt, and then I goe:
+Graunt she or no, _Æneas_ must away,
+Whose golden fortunes clogd with courtly ease,
+Cannot ascend to Fames immortall house,
+Or banquet in bright honors burnisht hall,
+Till he hath furrowed _Neptunes_ glassie fieldes,
+And cut a passage through his toples hilles:
+_Achates_ come forth, _Sergestus_, _Illioneus_,
+_Cloanthus_, haste away, _Æneas_ calles.
+
+_Enter Achates, Cloanthus, Sergestus, and Illioneus._
+
+_Acha._ What willes our Lord, or wherefore did he call?
+
+_Æn._ The dreames (braue mates) that did beset my bed,
+When sleepe but newly had imbrast the night,
+Commaunds me leaue these vnrenowmed beames,
+Whereas Nobilitie abhors to stay,
+And none but base _Æneas_ will abide:
+Abourd, abourd, since Fates doe bid abourd,
+And slice the Sea with sable coloured ships,
+On whom the nimble windes may all day waight,
+And follow them as footemen through the deepe:
+Yet _Dido_ casts her eyes like anchors out,
+To stay my Fleete from loosing forth the Bay:
+Come backe, come backe, I heare her crye a farre,
+And let me linke my bodie to my lips,
+That tyed together by the striuing tongues,
+We may as one saile into _Italy_.
+
+_Acha._ Banish that ticing dame from forth your mouth,
+And follow your foreseeing starres in all;
+This is no life for men at armes to liue,
+Where daliance doth consume a Souldiers strength,
+And wanton motions of alluring eyes,
+Effeminate our mindes inur'd to warre.
+
+_Illio._ Why, let vs build a Citie of our owne,
+And not stand lingering here for amorous lookes:
+Will _Dido_ raise old _Priam_ forth his graue,
+And build the towne againe the Greekes did burne?
+No no, she cares not how we sinke or swimme,
+So she may haue _Æneas_ in her armes.
+
+_Cloan._ To _Italy_, sweete friends to _Italy_,
+We will not stay a minute longer here.
+
+_Æn._ Troians abourd, and I will follow you,
+I faine would goe, yet beautie calles me backe:
+To leaue her so and not once say farewell,
+Were to transgresse against all lawes of loue:
+But if I vse such ceremonious thankes,
+As parting friends accustome on the shoare,
+Her siluer armes will coll me round about,
+And teares of pearle, crye stay, _Æneas_, stay:
+Each word she sayes will then containe a Crowne,
+And euery speech be ended with a kisse:
+I may not dure this female drudgerie,
+To sea _Æneas_, finde out _Italy_.  _Exit._
+
+_Enter Dido and Anna._
+
+_Dido._ O _Anna_, runne vnto the water side,
+They say _Æneas_ men are going abourd,
+It may be he will steale away with them:
+Stay not to answere me, runne _Anna_ runne.
+O foolish Troians that would steale from hence,
+And not let _Dido_ vnderstand their drift:
+I would haue giuen _Achates_ store of gold,
+And _Illioneus_ gum and Libian spice,
+The common souldiers rich imbrodered coates,
+And siluer whistles to controule the windes,
+Which _Circes_ sent _Sicheus_ when he liued:
+Vnworthie are they of a Queenes reward:
+See where they come, how might I doe to chide?
+
+_Enter Anna, with Æneas, Achates, Illioneus, and Sergestus._
+
+_Anna._ Twas time to runne, _Æneas_ had been gone,
+The sailes were hoysing vp, and he abourd.
+
+_Dido._ Is this thy loue to me?
+
+_Æn._ O princely _Dido_, giue me leaue to speake,
+I went to take my farewell _Achates_.
+
+_Dido._ How haps _Achates_ bid me not farewell?
+
+_Acha._ Because I feard your grace would keepe me here.
+
+_Dido._ To rid thee of that doubt, abourd againe,
+I charge thee put to sea and stay not here.
+
+_Acha._ Then let _Æneas_ goe abourd with vs.
+
+_Dido._ Get you abourd, _Æneas_ meanes to stay.
+
+_Æn._ The sea is rough, the windes blow to the shoare.
+
+_Dido._ O false _Æneas_, now the sea is rough,
+But when you were abourd twas calme enough,
+Thou and _Achates_ ment to saile away.
+
+_Æn._ Hath not the Carthage Queene mine onely sonne?
+Thinkes _Dido_ I will goe and leaue him here?
+
+_Dido._ _Æneas_ pardon me, for I forgot
+That yong _Ascanius_ lay with me this night:
+Loue made me iealous, but to make amends,
+Weare the emperiall Crowne of _Libia_,
+Sway thou the Punike Scepter in my steede,
+And punish me _Æneas_ for this crime.
+
+_Æn._ This kisse shall be faire _Didos_ punishment.
+
+_Dido._ O how a Crowne becomes _Æneas_ head!
+Stay here _Æneas_, and commaund as King.
+
+_Æn._ How vaine am I to weare this Diadem,
+And beare this golden Scepter in my hand?
+A Burgonet of steele, and not a Crowne,
+A Sword, and not a Scepter fits _Æneas_.
+
+_Dido._ O keepe them still, and let me gaze my fill:
+Now lookes _Æneas_ like immortall _Ioue_,
+O where is _Ganimed_ to hold his cup,
+And _Mercury_ to flye for what he calles,
+Ten thousand _Cupids_ houer in the ayre,
+And fanne it in _Æneas_ louely face,
+O that the Clowdes were here wherein thou fleest,
+That thou and I vnseene might sport our selues:
+Heauens enuious of our ioyes is waxen pale,
+And when we whisper, then the starres fall downe,
+To be partakers of our honey talke.
+
+_Æn._ O _Dido_, patronesse of all our liues,
+When I leaue thee, death be my punishment,
+Swell raging seas, frowne wayward destinies,
+Blow windes, threaten ye Rockes and sandie shelfes,
+This is the harbour that _Æneas_ seekes,
+Lets see what tempests can anoy me now.
+
+_Dido._ Not all the world can take thee from mine armes,
+_Æneas_ may commaund as many Moores,
+As in the Sea are little water drops:
+And now to make experience of my loue,
+Faire sister _Anna_ leade my louer forth,
+And seated on my Gennet, let him ride
+As _Didos_ husband through the punicke streetes,
+And will my guard with Mauritanian darts,
+To waite vpon him as their soueraigne Lord.
+
+_Anna._ What if the Citizens repine thereat?
+
+_Dido._ Those that dislike what _Dido_ giues in charge,
+Commaund my guard to slay for their offence:
+Shall vulgar pesants storme at what I doe?
+The ground is mine that giues them sustenance,
+The ayre wherein they breathe, the water, fire,
+All that they haue, their lands, their goods, their liues,
+And I the Goddesse of all these, commaund
+_Æneas_ ride as Carthaginian King.
+
+_Acha._ _Æneas_ for his parentage deserues
+As large a kingdome as is _Libia_.
+
+_Æn._ I, and vnlesse the destinies be false,
+I shall be planted in as rich a land.
+
+_Dido._ Speake of no other land, this land is thine,
+_Dido_ is thine, henceforth Ile call thee Lord:
+Doe as I bid thee, sister leade the way,
+And from a turret Ile behold my loue.
+
+_Æn._ Then here in me shall flourish _Priams_ race,
+And thou and I _Achates_, for reuenge,
+For _Troy_, for _Priam_, for his fiftie sonnes,
+Our kinsmens loues, and thousand guiltles soules,
+Will leade an hoste against the hatefull Greekes,
+And fire proude _Lacedemon_ ore their heads. _Exit._
+
+_Dido._ Speakes not _Æneas_ like a Conqueror?
+O blessed tempests that did driue him in,
+O happie sand that made him runne aground:
+Henceforth you shall be our Carthage Gods:
+I, but it may be he will leaue my loue,
+And seeke a forraine land calde _Italy_:
+O that I had a charme to keepe the windes
+Within the closure of a golden ball,
+Or that the Tyrrhen sea were in mine armes,
+That he might suffer shipwracke on my breast,
+As oft as he attempts to hoyst vp saile:
+I must preuent him, wishing will not serue:
+Goe, bid my Nurse take yong _Ascanius_,
+And beare him in the countrey to her house,
+_Æneas_ will not goe without his sonne:
+Yet left he should, for I am full of feare,
+Bring me his oares, his tackling, and his sailes;
+What if I sinke his ships? O heele frowne.
+Better he frowne, then I should dye for griefe:
+I cannot see him frowne, it may not be:
+Armies of foes resolu'd to winne this towne,
+Or impious traitors vowde to haue my life,
+Affright me not, onely _Æneas_ frowne
+Is that which terrifies poore _Didos_ heart:
+Nor bloudie speares appearing in the ayre,
+Presage the downfall of my Emperie,
+Nor blazing Commets threatens _Didos_ death,
+It is _Æneas_ frowne that ends my daies:
+If he forsake me not, I neuer dye,
+For in his lookes I see eternitie,
+And heele make me immortall with a kisse.
+
+_Enter a Lord._
+
+Your Nurse is gone with yong _Ascanius_,
+And heres _Æneas_ tackling, oares and sailes.
+
+_Dido._ Are these the sailes that in despight of me,
+Packt with the windes to beare _Æneas_ hence?
+Ile hang ye in the chamber where I lye,
+Driue if you can my house to _Italy_:
+Ile set the casement open that the windes
+May enter in, and once againe conspire
+Against the life of me poore Carthage Queene:
+But though he goe, he stayes in Carthage still,
+And let rich Carthage fleete vpon the seas,
+So I may haue _Æneas_ in mine armes.
+Is this the wood that grew in Carthage plaines,
+And would be toyling in the watrie billowes,
+To rob their mistresse of her Troian guest?
+O cursed tree, hadst thou but wit or sense,
+To measure how I prize _Æneas_ loue,
+Thou wouldst haue leapt from out the Sailers hands,
+And told me that _Æneas_ ment to goe:
+And yet I blame thee not, thou art but wood.
+The water which our Poets terme a Nimph,
+Why did it suffer thee to touch her breast,
+And shrunke not backe, knowing my loue was there?
+The water is an Element, no Nimph,
+Why should I blame _Æneas_ for his flight?
+O _Dido_, blame not him, but breake his oares,
+These were the instruments that launcht him forth,
+Theres not so much as this base tackling too,
+But dares to heape vp sorrowe to my heart:
+Was it not you that hoysed vp these sailes?
+Why burst you not, and they fell in the seas?
+For this will _Dido_ tye ye full of knots,
+And sheere ye all asunder with her hands:
+Now serue to chastize shipboyes for their faults,
+Ye shall no more offend the Carthage Queene,
+Now let him hang my fauours on his masts,
+And see if those will serue in steed of sailes:
+For tackling, let him take the chaines of gold,
+Which I bestowd vpon his followers:
+In steed of oares, let him vse his hands,
+And swim to _Italy_, Ile keepe these sure:
+Come beare them in. _Exit._
+
+_Enter the Nurse with Cupid for Ascanius._
+
+_Nurse._ My Lord _Ascanius_, ye must goe with me.
+
+_Cupid._ Whither must I goe? Ile stay with my mother.
+
+_Nurse._ No, thou shalt goe with me vnto my house,
+I haue an Orchard that hath store of plums,
+Browne Almonds, Seruises, ripe Figs and Dates,
+Dewberries, Apples, yellow Orenges,
+A garden where are Bee hiues full of honey,
+Musk-roses, and a thousand sort of flowers,
+And in the midst doth run a siluer streame,
+Where thou shalt see the red gild fishes leape,
+White Swannes, and many louely water fowles:
+Now speake _Ascanius_, will ye goe or no?
+
+_Cupid._ Come come Ile goe, how farre hence is your house?
+
+_Nurse._ But hereby child, we shall get thither straight.
+
+_Cupid._ Nurse I am wearie, will you carrie me?
+
+_Nurse._ I, so youle dwell with me and call me mother.
+
+_Cupid._ So youle loue me, I care not if I doe.
+
+_Nurse._ That I might liue to see this boy a man,
+How pretilie he laughs, goe ye wagge,
+Youle be a twigger when you come to age.
+Say _Dido_ what she will I am not old,
+Ile be no more a widowe, I am young,
+Ile haue a husband, or els a louer.
+
+_Cupid._ A husband and no teeth!
+
+_Nurse._ O what meane I to haue such foolish thoughts!
+Foolish is loue, a toy, O sacred loue,
+If there be any heauen in earth, tis loue:
+Especially in women of your yeares.
+Blush blush for shame, why shouldst thou thinke of loue?
+A graue, and not a louer fits thy age:
+A graue, why? I may liue a hundred yeares,
+Fourescore is but a girles age, loue is sweete:
+My vaines are withered, and my sinewes drie,
+Why doe I thinke of loue now I should dye?
+
+_Cupid._ Come Nurse.
+
+_Nurse._ Well, if he come a wooing he shall speede,
+O how vnwise was I to say him nay!  _Exeunt._
+
+
+
+
+Actus 5.
+
+
+_Enter Æneas with a paper in his hand, drawing the platforme of the
+citie, with him Achates, Cloanthus, and Illieneus._
+
+_Æn._ Triumph my mates, our trauels are at end,
+Here will _Æneas_ build a statelier _Troy_,
+Then that which grim _Atrides_ ouerthrew:
+_Carthage_ shall vaunt her pettie walles no more,
+For I will grace them with a fairer frame,
+And clad her in a Chrystall liuerie,
+Wherein the day may euermore delight:
+From golden _India Ganges_ will I fetch,
+Whose wealthie streames may waite vpon her towers,
+And triple wise intrench her round about:
+The Sunne from Egypt shall rich odors bring,
+Wherewith his burning beames like labouring Bees,
+That loade their thighes with _Hyblas_ honeys spoyles,
+Shall here vnburden their exhaled sweetes,
+And plant our pleasant suburbes with her fumes.
+
+_Acha._ What length or bredth shal this braue towne cōtaine?
+
+_Æn._ Not past foure thousand paces at the most.
+
+_Illio._ But what shall it be calde, _Troy_ as before?
+
+_Æn._ That haue I not determinde with my selfe.
+
+_Cloan._ Let it be term'd _Ænea_ by your name.
+
+_Serg._ Rather _Ascania_ by your little sonne.
+
+_Æn._ Nay, I will haue it calde _Anchisaon_,
+Of my old fathers name.
+
+_Enter Hermes with Ascanius._
+
+_Hermes._ _Æneas_ stay, _Ioues_ Herald bids thee stay.
+
+_Æn._ Whom doe I see, _Ioues_ winged messenger?
+Welcome to _Carthage_ new erected towne.
+
+_Hermes._ Why cosin, stand you building Cities here,
+And beautifying the Empire of this Queene,
+While _Italy_ is cleane out of thy minde?
+To too forgetfull of thine owne affayres,
+Why wilt thou so betray thy sonnes good hap?
+The king of Gods sent me from highest heauen,
+To sound this angrie message in thine eares.
+Vaine man, what Monarky expectst thou here?
+Or with what thought sleepst thou in _Libia_ shoare?
+If that all glorie hath forsaken thee,
+And thou despise the praise of such attempts:
+Yet thinke vpon _Ascanius_ prophesie,
+And yong _Iulus_ more then thousand yeares,
+Whom I haue brought from _Ida_ where he slept,
+And bore yong _Cupid_ vnto _Cypresse_ Ile.
+
+_Æn._ This was my mother that beguild the Queene,
+And made me take my brother for my sonne:
+No maruell _Dido_ though thou be in loue,
+That daylie danlest _Cupid_ in thy armes:
+Welcome sweet child, where hast thou been this long?
+
+_Asca._ Eating sweet Comfites with Queene _Didos_ maide,
+Who euer since hath luld me in her armes.
+
+_Æn._ _Sergestus_, beare him hence vnto our ships,
+Lest _Dido_ spying him keepe him for a pledge.
+
+_Hermes._ Spendst thou thy time about this little boy,
+And giuest not care vnto the charge I bring?
+I tell thee thou must straight to _Italy_,
+Or els abide the wrath of frowning _Ioue_.
+
+_Æn._ How should I put into the raging deepe,
+Who haue no sailes nor tackling for my ships?
+What would the Gods haue me _Deucalion_ like,
+Flote vp and downe where ere the billowes driue?
+Though she repairde my fleete and gaue me ships,
+Yet hath she tane away my oares and masts,
+And left me neither saile nor sterne abourd.
+
+_Enter to them Iarbus._
+
+_Iar._ How now _Æneas_, sad, what meanes these dumpes?
+
+_Æn._ _Iarbus_, I am cleane besides my selfe,
+_Ioue_ hath heapt on me such a desperate charge,
+Which neither art nor reason may atchieue,
+Nor I deuise by what meanes to contriue.
+
+_Iar._ As how I pray, may I entreat you tell.
+
+_Æn._ With speede he bids me sail to _Italy_.
+When as I want both rigging for my fleete,
+And also furniture for these my men.
+
+_Iar._ If that be all, then cheare thy drooping lookes,
+For I will furnish thee with such supplies:
+Let some of those thy followers goe with me,
+And they shall haue what thing so ere thou needst.
+
+_Æn._ Thankes good _Iarbus_ for thy friendly ayde,
+_Achates_ and the rest shall waite on thee,
+Whil'st I rest thankfull for this curtesie.
+
+_Exit Iarbus and Æneas traine._
+
+Now will I haste vnto _Lauinian_ shoare,
+And raise a new foundation to old _Troy_,
+Witnes the Gods, and witnes heauen and earth,
+How loth I am to leaue these _Libian_ bounds,
+But that eternall _Iupiter_ commands.
+
+_Enter Dido and Æneas._
+
+_Dido._ I feare I sawe _Æneas_ little sonne,
+Led by _Achates_ to the Troian fleete:
+If it be so, his father meanes to flye:
+But here he is, now _Dido_ trie thy wit.
+_Æneas_, wherefore goe thy men abourd?,
+Why are thy ships new rigd? or to what end
+Launcht from the hauen, lye they in the Rhode?
+Pardon me though I aske, loue makes me aske.
+
+_Æn._ O pardon me, if I resolue thee why:
+_Æneas_ will not faine with his deare loue,
+I must from hence: this day swift _Mercury_
+When I was laying a platforme for these walles,
+Sent from his father _Ioue_, appeard to me,
+And in his name rebukt me bitterly,
+For lingering here, neglecting _Italy_.
+
+_Dido._ But yet _Æneas_ will not leaue his loue.
+
+_Æn._ I am commaunded by immortal _Ioue_,
+To leaue this towne and passe to _Italy_,
+And therefore must of force.
+
+_Dido._ These words proceed not from _Æneas_ heart.
+
+_Æn._ Not from my heart, for I can hardly goe,
+And yet I may not stay, _Dido_ farewell.
+
+_Dido._ Farewell: is this the mends for _Didos_ loue?
+Doe Troians vse to quit their Louers thus?
+Fare well may _Dido_, so _Æneas_ stay,
+I dye, if my _Æneas_ say farewell.
+
+_Æn._ Then let me goe and neuer say farewell,
+Let me goe, farewell, I must from hence.
+
+_Dido._ These words are poyson to poore _Didos_ soule,
+O speake like my _Æneas_, like my loue:
+Why look'st thou toward the sea? the time hath been
+When _Didos_ beautie chaungd thine eyes to her;
+Am I lesse faire then when thou sawest me first?
+O then _Æneas_, tis for griefe of thee:
+Say thou wilt stay in _Carthage_ with my Queene,
+And _Didos_ beautie will returne againe:
+_Æneas_, say, how canst thou take thy leaue?
+Wilt thou kisse _Dido_? O thy lips haue sworne
+To stay with _Dido_: canst thou take her hand?
+Thy Hand and mine haue plighted mutuall faith,
+Therefore vnkinde _Æneas_, must thou say,
+Then let me goe, and neuer say farewell.
+
+_Æn._ O Queene of _Carthage_, wert thou vgly blacke,
+_Æneas_ could not choose but hold thee deare,
+Yet must he not gainsay the Gods behest.
+
+_Dido._ The Gods, what Gods be those that seeke my death?
+Wherein haue I offended _Iupiter_,
+That he should take _Æneas_ from mine armes?
+O no, the Gods wey not what Louers doe,
+It is _Æneas_ calles _Æneas_ hence,
+And wofull _Dido_ by these blubbred cheekes,
+By this right hand, and by our spousall rites,
+Desires _Æneas_ to remaine with her:
+_Si bene quid de te merui, fuit aut tibi quidquam
+Dulce meum, miserere domus labentis: & istam
+Oro, si quis ad hac precibus locus, exue mentem._
+
+_Æn. Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis,
+Italiam non sponte sequor._
+
+_Dido._ Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings
+Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue?
+How _Carthage_ did rebell, _Iarbus_ storme,
+And all the world calles me a second _Helen_,
+For being intangled by a strangers lookes:
+So thou wouldst proue as true as _Paris_ did,
+Would, as faire _Troy_ was, _Carthage_ might be sackt,
+And I be calde a second _Helena_.
+Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse,
+That I might see _Æneas_ in his face:
+Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind,
+But rather will augment then ease my woe?
+
+_Æn._ In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath,
+If words might moue me I were ouercome.
+
+_Dido._ And wilt thou not be mou'd with _Didos_ words?
+Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man,
+Nor _Dardanus_ the author of thy stocke:
+But thou art Sprung from _Scythian Caucasus_,
+And Tygers of _Hircania_ gaue thee sucke:
+Ah foolish _Dido_ to forbeare this long!
+Wast thou not wrackt vpon this _Libian_ shoare,
+And cam'st to _Dido_ like a Fisherswaine?
+Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King,
+And all thy needie followers Noblemen?
+O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare,
+And I for pitie harbord in my bosome,
+Wilt thou now slay me with thy venomed sting,
+And hisse at _Dido_ for preseruing thee?
+Goe goe and spare not, seeke out _Italy_,
+I hope that that which loue forbids me doe,
+The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large,
+And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies,
+To whom poore _Dido_ doth bequeath reuenge,
+I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp,
+Where thou and false _Achates_ first set foote:
+Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall,
+And weepe vpon your liueles carcases,
+Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit.
+Why star'st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay,
+Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide:
+If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee;
+For though thou hast the heart to say farewell,
+I haue not power to stay thee: is he gone?
+I but heele come againe, he cannot goe,
+He loues me to too well to serue me so:
+Yet he that in my sight would not relent,
+Will, being absent, be abdurate still.
+By this is he got to the water side,
+And, see the Sailers take him by the hand,
+But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me,
+Returnes amaine: welcome, welcome my loue:
+But wheres _Æneas_? ah hees gone hees gone!
+
+_Anna._ What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye?
+
+_Dido._ O _Anna_, my _Æneas_ is abourd,
+And leauing me will saile to _Italy_.
+Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe,
+Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene,
+And I will liue a priuate life with him.
+
+_Anna._ Wicked _Æneas_.
+
+_Dido._ Call him not wicked, sister speake him faire,
+And looke vpon him with a Mermaides eye,
+Tell him, I neuer vow'd at _Aulis_ gulfe
+The desolation of his natiue _Troy_,
+Nor sent a thousand ships vnto the walles,
+Nor euer violated faith to him:
+Request him gently (_Anna_) to returne,
+I craue but this, he stay a tide or two,
+That I may learne to beare it patiently,
+If he depart thus suddenly, I dye:
+Run _Anna_, run, stay not to answere me.
+
+_Anna._ I goe faire sister, heauens graunt good successe.
+
+_Exit Anna._
+
+_Enter the Nurse._
+
+_Nurse._ O _Dido_, your little sonne _Ascanius_
+Is gone! he lay with me last night,
+And in the morning he was stolne from me,
+I thinke some Fairies haue beguiled me.
+
+_Dido._ O cursed hagge and false dissembling wretch!
+That slayest me with thy harsh and hellish tale,
+Thou for some pettie guift hast let him goe,
+And I am thus deluded of my boy:
+Away with her to prison presently,
+Traytoresse too keend and cursed Sorceresse.
+
+_Nurse._ I know not what you meane by treason, I,
+I am as true as any one of yours. _Exeunt the Nurse._
+
+_Dido._ Away with her, suffer her not to speake.
+My sister comes, I like not her sad lookes.
+
+_Enter Anna._
+
+_Anna._ Before I came, _Æneas_ was abourd,
+And spying me, hoyst vp the sailes amaine:
+But I cride out, _Æneas_, false _Æneas_ stay.
+Then gan he wagge his hand, which yet held vp,
+Made me suppose he would haue heard me speake:
+Then gan they driue into the Ocean,
+Which when I viewd, I cride, _Æneas_ stay,
+_Dido_, faire _Dido_ wils _Æneas_ stay:
+Yet he whose heart of adamant or flint,
+My teares nor plaints could mollifie a whit:
+Then carelesly I rent my haire for griefe,
+Which seene to all, though he beheld me not,
+They gan to moue him to redresse my ruth,
+And stay a while to heare what I could say,
+But he clapt vnder hatches saild away.
+
+_Dido._ O _Anna_, _Anna_, I will follow him.
+
+_Anna._ How can ye goe when he hath all your fleete?
+
+_Dido._ Ile frame me wings of waxe like _Icarus_,
+And ore his ships will soare vnto the Sunne,
+That they may melt and I fall in his armes:
+Or els Ile make a prayer vnto the waues,
+That I may swim to him like _Tritons_ neece:
+O _Anna_, fetch _Orions_ Harpe,
+That I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,
+And ride vpon his backe vnto my loue:
+Looke sister, looke louely _Æneas_ ships,
+See see, the billowes heaue him vp to heauen,
+And now downe falles the keeles into the deepe:
+O sister, sister, take away the Rockes,
+Theile breake his ships, O _Proteus_, _Neptune_, _Ioue_,
+Saue, saue _Æneas_, _Didos_ leefest loue!
+Now is he come on shoare safe without hurt:
+But see, _Achates_ wils him put to sea,
+And all the Sailers merrie make for ioy,
+But he remembring me shrinkes backe againe:
+See where he comes, welcome, welcome my loue.
+
+_Anna._ Ah sister, leaue these idle fantasies,
+Sweet sister cease, remember who you are.
+
+_Dido. Dido_ I am, vnlesse I be deceiu'd,
+And must I raue thus for a renegate?
+Must I make ships for him to saile away?
+Nothing can beare me to him but a ship,
+And he hath all thy fleete, what shall I doe?
+But dye in furie of this ouersight?
+I, I must be the murderer of my selfe:
+No but I am not, yet I will be straight.
+_Anna_ be glad, now haue I found a meane
+To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie:
+Not farre from hence there is a woman famoused for arts,
+Daughter vnto the Nimphs _Hesperides_,
+Who wild me sacrifice his ticing relliques:
+Goe _Anna_, bid my seruants bring me fire.  _Exit Anna._
+
+_Enter Iarbus._
+
+_Iar._ How long will _Dido_ mourne a strangers flight,
+That hath dishonord her and _Carthage_ both?
+How long shall I with griefe consume my daies,
+And reape no guerdon for my truest loue?
+
+_Dido._ _Iarbus_, talk not of _Æneas_, let him goe,
+Lay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire,
+That shall consume all that this stranger left,
+For I entend a priuate Sacrifize,
+To cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue.
+
+_Iar._ But afterwards will _Dido_ graunt me loue?
+
+_Dido._ I, I, _Iarbus_, after this is done,
+None in the world shall have my loue but thou:
+So, leaue me now, let none approach this place. _Exit Iarbus._
+Now _Dido_, with these reliques burne thy selfe,
+And make _Æneas_ famous through the world,
+For periurie and slaughter of a Queene:
+Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue
+He drew, and swore by to be true to me,
+Thou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his:
+Here lye the garment which I cloath'd him in,
+When first he came on shoare, perish thou to:
+These letters, lines, and periurd papers all,
+Shall burne to cinders in this prectious flame.
+And now ye Gods that guide the starrie frame,
+And order all things at your high dispose;
+Graunt, though the traytors land in _Italy_,
+They may be still tormented with vnrest,
+And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,
+That may reuenge this treason to a Queene,
+By plowing vp his Countries with the Sword:
+Betwixt this land and that be neuer league,
+_Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus undas
+Impresor: arma armis: pugnent ipsig nepotes_:
+Liue false _Æneas_, truest _Dido_ dyes,
+_Sic sic inuat ire sub umbras_.
+
+_Enter Anna._
+
+_Anna._ O helpe _Iarbus_, _Dido_ in these flames
+Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me!
+
+_Enter Iarbus running._
+
+_Iar._ Cursed _Iarbus_, dye to expiate
+The griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule,
+_Dido_ I come to thee, aye me _Æneas_.
+
+_Anna._ What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?
+_Dido_ is dead, _Iarbus_ slaine, _Iarbus_ my deare loue,
+O sweet _Iarbus_, _Annas_ sole delight,
+What fatall destinie enuies me thus,
+To see my sweet _Iarbus_ slay himselfe?
+But _Anna_ now shall honor thee in death,
+And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,
+That Gods and men may pitie this my death,
+And rue our ends senceles of life or breath;
+Now sweet _Iarbus_ stay, I come to thee.
+
+_FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage
+by Christopher Marlowe
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+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIDO QUEENE OF CARTHAGE ***
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